Homeschooled
by Kin-outcast1
Summary: A series of drabbles, more or less, documenting the years Cal was homeschooled by Niko.
1. Back To School

_A/N: So, as I said in the summary, I decided to write a series of drabbles revolving around the years Niko homeschooled Cal. I have no idea how long it's going to be, but here's the first installment anyway – with more to come. I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a review so I don't decide I'm not being appreciated enough and stop writing ;-)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Cal Leandros series … a most amazing woman named Rob Thurman does._

. . .

The textbook seemed to drop out of nowhere – landing hard, heavy, and dusty in my unsuspecting lap. For most of the morning it had just been me, the damp shadows of the apartment, the creak of the plumbing, and the monotonous buzz of the television set. The fact that a book had somehow managed to find its way into the equation could mean only one thing: Niko was home.

"You're early," I said blandly, ignoring the weight in my lap.

"I don't work Thursday afternoons," Niko responded, stepping behind the couch where I sat and efficiently raising the blinds off the tiny window. Unwelcome sunlight rid the room of shadows and illuminated the cover of the textbook – _Chemistry_. I blinked at it rather stupidly, allowing it a few spare seconds of my time before lifting my eyes to the TV once again. Which is when the screen went black. Damn.

Niko stood in front of me then, remote in one hand. "You're not yet seventeen, Cal," he began after assessing me for a moment. "Imminent death and destruction is no excuse for a wasted mind."

I eyed him warily, literally not getting it. I'd never been a morning person … never mind the fact it was past 1:00. To my shame, a blank "Huh?" managed to escape my lips.

"It seems I am too late," Niko mourned, rapping a knuckle against my skull. "Let me attempt to simplify this: get off the couch, we're starting school."

I was horrified. Never mind that I'd spent several months fleeing from the darkest nightmare this world has ever known; never mind that I'd _lived _with them for two years of my life. The idea of _school _still sent a chill of out-and-out terror up my spine. "School?"

He took the chemistry book and shoved it under my nose. "School."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed patiently. "I may not be able to make a scholar of you, Cal, but you're finishing high school whether you like it or not."

It was almost ridiculous – as mundane and unimportant as birthday presents, shiny new bicycles, and frigging lunch money. We'd never fit in with that kind of life before, never mind now. But the thing was, to Niko it wasn't ridiculous. Education was gravely important to him, I knew that. He'd already finished high school, and he would've finished college too if it weren't for, if I hadn't …

"As much as I'd love to stand here and watch you mull it over," he said, dry annoyance seeping into his voice as he took a handful of the back of my gray sweater and lifted me off my lazy ass.

"But Nik –" I fumbled desperately for an excuse. "You can't teach me everything yourself!"

He leveled a look at me.

Okay, so maybe that was a dumb excuse. But I had more. "I lost two whole years! I was just a freshman when …" I let the sentence fall unfinished.

"We'll make up for those two years," he affirmed.

"You work, Nik," I pointed out. "And I'll have to too, later on, to help make ends meet."

"I'll school you around our schedules, and you can study when you're not working."

"We're always on the move …"

"You can't read in the car?"

He was so smug, damn him. And I was fast running out of excuses. The most obvious one hung in the air between us – that I was a mentally crippled freak that had, only a matter of months ago, come tumbling out of hell snarling and growling like an animal … or a Grendel. But "mentally crippled freak" … those were _my _words, not Nik's. With Nik, it wasn't about second chances. It was about second chances, third chances, fourth chances, fifth, sixth, seventh, and on. No matter what the circumstances, Niko always believed in me. And surprise, surprise, this was just him doing it again.

I reluctantly took the Chemistry book from him and tried not to gag at the nauseating swirl of colors and numbers that coated it. "Are you sure about this?"

"Quite," he said, releasing me and folding his arms across his chest, obviously pleased with himself. Sure, this was him not giving up on me, being a good brother, yada yada, but I could nevertheless see that wicked glimmer in his eyes – one that said all too clearly Niko was going to enjoy this.

Damn it.


	2. Something Easy

"I think I'll start you out with something easy."

Sometimes I loved him … and sometimes I wanted to clobber him over the head with a 1,000-pound Algebra book, similar to the one I was currently bent over. I hadn't expected this homeschooling crap to be the highlight of my life, and my assumptions were proving to be more than correct. Being Niko's student was a nightmare, there was no way around it. His new favorite hobby was watching me slave over a textbook, and the man had recently become obsessed with pop quizzes. I never knew when he was going to spring one on me, although he seemed to enjoy it most while sparring, probably so he could humiliate me mentally as well as physically. Oh, the joys of high school. I glanced up from a particularly nasty equation and said caustically, "Gee, thanks, Nik."

He gave me a superior look. "That Algebra lesson is practically an introduction. You can more than handle it."

I rested my chin on my fist. "Every problem I come across in life I can either shoot, stab, or blow up – and it's gone. This," I muttered, flipping my pencil to get the eraser, "is downright unnatural."

"Actually, I'd think homicidal tendencies to be the more unnatural of the two, but it is all a matter of opinion," said Niko, amused at my suffering. He picked up an actually-not-so-colossal book off one of his stacks and tossed it in front of me. "Back to the subject at hand. I'm starting your assigned reading list with this. It's an English masterpiece, but in play form, so it should be an easy start for you. After all, we wouldn't want your brain cells to implode from the stress."

"Too late," I said, picking up the book and casting a glance over the cover. "Nik, the _title _isn't even easy," I complained, putting more distance between myself and the monstrosity. "What the hell does this say?"

Niko sighed. "It says _Cyrano de Bergerac_."

It wasn't any less frightening when pronounced. "What's that?"

"It's a name. The name of a romantic from 17th century Paris."

Sounded like one heck of a book. This time I very nearly did clobber him, and probably would have if he hadn't disappeared into his room. "I have to go to work. I'll be back late. Have the first act finished before bed." He pulled on a coat and mussed my hair on his way past.

"Yes, Master," I said remorsefully. "Dinner?"

"Ah, yes. There's a surprise for you in the fridge."

I was already out of my chair.

. . . .

He did come back late, but I was still sprawled on the ratty couch, reading. The book had turned out to be more interesting than I'd thought, and anyway, I couldn't go to sleep just yet. I had a present for Nik.

"Still up?" he asked, bolting the door securely behind him.

"Still up," I confirmed. "Book's turning out better than I thought."

"Oh?" asked Nik, taking off his coat.

"Yeah. That Cyrano's one touchy bastard," I said, a slightly wicked smile pulling at my mouth. "He's got a helluva nose."

There was a raise of his eyebrow, playfully warning. "Oh?"

"Yup. Colossal. Should've been removed at birth."

He stood there a moment, eying me. "Perhaps you should turn in for the night," he suggested, heading to his room – which was only about 5 feet away. "Good night, Cal."

"Good night," I said, and gave him my present.

And oh, revenge is sweet.


	3. Educated Little Monster

It was time to go.

Simple, futile, inevitable. We always knew that, no matter where we were, it would be time to go eventually. And that time was now.

With shaking hands I stuffed a handful of my schoolbooks into a yawning garbage bag, adding to it a few notebooks and pencils and whatnot. I wasn't really paying attention; my eyes kept sailing from my work to the far corner of the room. Everyone knows that all evil things dwell in corners – dark, shadowy corners … except this corner wasn't dark, but sunny. The ripped-up remains of my English essay lay in strips on the stained rug. Despite the bitch the essay had been to write and the wicked amount of time I'd spent on it, it was hardly a terrifying sight to behold.

"Hurry, Cal," said Niko, having returned from loading the car. His side of the room was already bare, and he immediately got to work on mine. There wasn't too much of the damn stuff to pack, but I was as good as useless.

That's what it had said, the Grendel, as it sat in the sun and ripped my English essay slowly and methodically to shreds. _Useless. The sheep tries to teach the monster. Our educated little monster. _It's grin was half its face, the Cheshire cat's evil twin. Laughing at me. That was around the time Niko had charged forward with his sword, missing completely as the Grendel stepped through a rip in the air and was gone.

But not from my mind.

Niko tied the top of my garbage bag in a knot and slung it over his shoulder, noticing too late the two Geography books sitting on the floor next to my bed. "Carry those out with you," he said, nodding at them.

I followed him through the tiny apartment, flicking light switches as I went, darkening everything at my back, and one by one closing up that faded portion of our life. _Useless._ I supposed that Grendel had been a whole lot smarter than I'd ever be.


	4. Niko's Task List

_A/N: I'm still here! Please enjoy this next chapter. And as I've said, if you're not logged in or signed up, anonymous reviews are whole-heartedly welcome! Feedback really encourages me to keep writing._

_. . ._

. . .

Staking out a new place to live always took a while. Finding the right area, an affordable apartment, a place for Niko to work… it was pretty damn time-consuming, especially considering we did all of it together. Separating until the overall area was officially pronounced Grendel-free wasn't on our to-do list. But after it was, and we'd found an apartment, and Niko had found a job where the pay wasn't complete crap, life went back to normal, and Niko's dreaded schedule would begin once again. Everything was planned out … which meant _Niko_ had planned it out … which meant a _lot_ of school was involved.

Today was just such a day. It began at 5:30 with a glass of ice-cold tap water in my face, and then a very long, very lung-destructive run. I mean, we literally ran the perimeter of the entire town three times, and it still somehow "didn't count as Phys Ed". Then we went home, showered, and Niko left for work, leaving me in a blissful state of freedom where I could sloth around and watch TV all day. Yeah right.

When it came to task lists, Niko was worse than any TV mom. My own mother hadn't been very interested in lists, as she only ever performed two activities and definitely didn't need reminding; Niko, on the other hand, thrived on them. Four chapters of this, two lessons of this, two essay outlines, a quiz, a test… I didn't remember ever doing this much work when I was in public school. Niko was such an asshole.

I already had a tidy portion of the almighty task list checked off (hooray for me) and was banging my head against an Algebra equation when Niko came home on lunch break. He crept soundlessly through the apartment (which would be the equivalent of about 5 steps) and tackled me right out of my chair – which meant the actual Phys Ed class had begun. So we sparred for half an hour, and once the walls, ceiling, and floor were spotlessly clean from being wiped with me, lunch happened. There didn't seem to be much in the way of restaurants out here in the middle of nowhere, but there was a grocery store a few blocks from our apartment, and Niko had stocked us up nicely just after we'd moved in. After lunch Nik went back to work and I decided to multi-task, so I practiced cleaning my guns while I studied the periodic table. Niko would be so proud.

He came home just as the sun began to set. So close after a Grendel encounter, Nik tried never to leave me alone at night. Maybe one day I'd toughen the hell up and stop being such a Cowardly Lion… these days I was just grateful. Niko cooked himself up some tofu and some other gunk for his meal, but allowed me a TV dinner as reward for switching things up and actually completing everything on the task list. He called it positive reinforcement and likened me to a puppy; I just ignored him and enjoyed my grease. After that was over we cleaned up the cramped kitchenette and Niko pop-quizzed me on various monsters and the best methods to eliminate them. The task list may have been completed, but Niko also had an innate one that never stopped working.

When that was over I watched TV, one of my favorite and laziest activities that was strictly_ off_ the task list. Niko sat on the floor beside the couch and meditated, and just because I was feeling so brotherly I ruined his Zen by swatting his face hard with a pillow. And, of course, a pillow fight ensued and I missed the second half of my program.

After we vacuumed up the feathers and I hacked up some down, we turned in. I slept hard and woke up cold and wet, with a new task list taped to the kitchen table.


	5. Pop Quiz

_A/N: Hmm... I actually have nothing to say._

_Enjoy this drabble :)_

_. . . ._

. . . .

Wisconsin was cold. The insides of their motels were somehow colder. And it was that same damn cold almost always gave me nightmares.

I wasn't letting myself cry, but I couldn't help the noises, and neither could I stop them. They kept coming up, hiccupping out of a stomach that really, really hurt, muffled by the pillow that was clamped tightly in my teeth. I was trying to rip it apart, like I'd been ripping something else apart seconds ago, in a world that wouldn't let go of me. I felt my hair on the back of my neck, my fist planted against a frozen wall, and a corkscrew of constricting white blankets lashing my legs together. I also felt Niko, fisting the back of my shirt and shaking me gently. He only slept one bed over (motel rooms were cheaper that way), so he would've noticed immediately when the dream started getting rough. And it usually did, even though I'd broke myself of sleeping under the bed some time ago. It should've been better. _I _should've been better.

I remembered the dream this time. Usually I just woke up, scared shitless for a few minutes with no real hold on what I was shitless over, and then drifted back to sleep without a sliver of a memory. Happy days. I had plenty memories this time, and not one of them very pleasant.

I stopped trying to eat my pillow and burrowed my head in it instead, closing my throat against the noises. My ancient mattress creaked and bowed beneath Niko's weight as he sat on it. His hand released my shirt and started to rub my back slowly. Then, breaking the silence, he softly announced, "Pop quiz."

Niko and his infamous pop quizzes. It almost made me laugh, which I guessed was partially his intention. "You have got to be shitting me," I muttered.

He wasn't. "Italian dictator during World War II."

"Mussolini," I responded mechanically, hiccupping directly afterward, to my shame. But hey, at least I got the question right. Even though it was an easy one. He always started me out with the easy ones.

"What is a motif?"

"A theme."

"A recurring theme," he corrected. "Antithesis?"

"Gesundheit."

His hand left my back to swat the back of my head. I turned my face to the side and took a breath, focusing on a patch of mold-stained wall next to Niko's bed. "Something about juxtaposition."

"Well, you remembered a long word. That's impressive. Can you spell it?"

"Yes, ass."

"Then spell it."

I did. Despite my deeply-rooted loathing for all things school-related, this was actually relaxing. If anything, it gave me more of a desire to sleep. And it took away the monsters. Not enough so that they weren't there, so that I wasn't haunted – because when would that ever happen? But enough so that the red eyes, cold skin, and gaping smiles were somewhat obscured behind block letters, school books, and dictionary definitions. I usually hated those things; right now, I grabbed onto them.

"I'm sorry about the cold," Nik said after a short silence. He knew what often sparked the nightmares too; it was too bad the insides of our wallets didn't hold shit. It was too bad the Grendels had chased us out of a much warmer apartment in a town we'd thought was safe.

"Not cold now," I answered. Being soaked in sweat tends to take care of that. "But that doesn't mean I don't really, really hate Wisconsin. Can we leave soon?"

"Soon," he promised. "After you start that essay on the Age of Enlightenment." I forced a half-hearted groan for his enjoyment. "And after I can earn some more money for gas."

There were a few moments of would-be silence – the broken heater was clanking away behind us – as we both lapsed into thought. Niko would do his part and more by earning our gas money, not to mention food and shelter money, and I'd pretend to do my share by studying and keeping sane, or as sane as I could be. Sane enough, until sleep came and I saw terrible things and_ did_ terrible things… teeth tearing, eyes red –

Niko smacked my head again. "Now. Give me the second-to-last column of the periodic table."

My head shot up from the pillow. _"What?"_

He stood with a faint smile of amusement, untangled my blankets, and threw them back over me. "Go to sleep, little brother."

I did. I had a dream about Mussolini. Talk about your scary nightmares.


	6. Being A Terrible Student

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!_

_. . ._

_. . ._

"Do you actually _know _the second-to-last column of the periodic table?"

That question had come out of nowhere, just like the thought, and I got just what I had expected. A half-amused, half-supercilious raised eyebrow that made my question seem rhetorical and more than a little stupid. Yeah, Nik knew. He knew everything else, why not this? I, on the other hand, couldn't seem to commit more than 5 minerals to memory, no matter how many hours I spent staring at that damn table. My intelligence level was admittedly nowhere near that of Niko, the all-knowing.

But, seriously, the second-to-last column, from memory?

I leaned back in the passenger's seat and stared skeptically at him as he drove, taking our hunk-of-junk car down scrubby Wisconsin roads. Finally I announced, "No, you don't."

Niko's eyes left the road to glance at me, still just as amused and supercilious. "Where is your faith, little brother?"

"No one knows the second-to-last column of the period table offhand," I insisted, refusing to be swayed. "It's impossible."

"Is it?"

"Yes," I stressed. "Go ahead, do it."

"How can I, if it's impossible?"

"So you admit it!"

"Those are your words, not mine."

I groaned. "You're hurting my already-tired brain."

"Anything it takes to pound some sense into it," he said, and on cue I ducked to miss the blur that was his hand aimed at my head.

"Hands on the wheel, Cyrano," I advised when it looked like he might try again. Instead he sufficed by nodding at the history textbook that had been lying forgotten in my lap for a precious number of minutes. With a sigh of remorse, I picked it up and continued reading. I was silent for about 11 seconds before letting out a short laugh and muttering, "Imagine being named 'Wilberforce'."

"Terrible," Niko agreed blandly.

7 seconds. "I don't think the Age of Enlightenment was all that enlightening. Unless they're counting 'enlightenment' as the addition of about 20 million new philosophies…"

"Cal…"

"I mean, no one even agreed on most of them, so they couldn't have been all that enlightening…"

"Concentrate."

I snorted. "Fine, just stop distracting me."

That actually got a laugh out of him, and I read contentedly and in silence for about 2 minutes before I was thinking of something else to say. There wasn't much left; since we'd packed up our motel room and left four hours ago, I'd pretty much exhausted my vocabulary… a relatively new feeling, as I didn't usually feel the need to talk so much. Hell, a matter of months ago talking was still painful. But today felt good. We were leaving Wisconsin, a place that I'd inexplicably despised, one that was _cold,_ and I was impatient as ever to reach the border. Still, having to do my school a scant foot away from Niko, under his ever-watchful eye, was no treat. He was the Taskmaster from Hell – all-in-all a terrible teacher. So I had to balance things out the only way I could… by being a terrible student.

And that meant finding something else to say. "I'm starving." Not original, but valid. We hadn't stopped to eat yet, after all.

Niko let out a long sigh, his breath in unison with the rush of the heat. "Do you ever stop talking?"

Score. "We haven't even stopped for lunch."

"It would put us too far out of our way," he said, and then thumped my history book with one commanding finger. "Back to Wilberforce, little brother."

"You still haven't answered my question," I accused, ignoring him.

Longsuffering was practically coming out his pores. "WHAT question?"

"Do you know the second-to-last column of the periodic table?"

"I'll make a deal with you. If I can recite it from memory, you will sit quietly and read your History like a good little student until _I _decide to stop for lunch. Notice I said 'quietly'. However, if I can't recite it from memory, we eat at the nearest fast food place."

I considered, eying him suspiciously. "You wouldn't have made this deal if you didn't know you'd win."

"Take it or leave it."

My stomach growled – getting testy now that lunch was on the line. But there was no way around it. Giving in, I bent over and rummaged around the mess of schoolbooks on the floor before and under my seat, in search of my Chemistry book. Fishing it out, I thumbed my way through to the periodic table, and grumbled, "Go ahead."

"Fluorine, chlorine, bromine, iodine…"

I did History for three hours straight.


	7. To Catch A Shug Monkey

_A/N: So, this came from me getting the funniest picture into my head and wanting to put it down on paper. It went on somewhat longer than I expected, but whatever. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!_

* * *

" 'Trial courts consist of municipal, county, and common pleas courts. Common pleas courts may include separate general, domestic relations, probate, and juvenile divisions, or combinations thereof. The appeals courts are intermediate-level appellate courts that hear appeals from the trial courts in both civil and criminal matters. The state supreme court is the state's highest appellate court'... _Niii-iiik_…"

"You mispronounced 'municipal' and 'appellate'," was Niko's only response to my whining. As he stressed the correct pronunciations for a second time, I vigorously whacked my head against the dashboard, praying the impact would knock me unconscious and put me out of my misery.

"You can continue reading now." Niko's voice was casual and easy-going, as if this were all _my _idea, but the iron toe he dug into my shin said differently. So I continued, my brain squirming in disgust at the sheer boringness of the words in front of me.

We were in Ohio. Fan-frigging-tastic. And I thought I'd hated _Wisconsin. _As soon as we'd crossed the border of Ohio, Niko had stopped off somewhere and picked up about two billion (well, alright, maybe one billion) pamphlets on everything from tourism to agriculture to Ohio state law, all for me. "It will be educational" he'd said, and he meant it, but the wicked quirk of his lips told me it might have more to do with the packet of ketchup I'd purposefully squirted at him in a moment of crisis. And "crisis" refers to him making a wise crack about my inability to read _Dick and Jane_ while my mouth was too full of food to respond verbally. The ketchup probably stained his shirt, but it was worth it to see the look on his face.

Or it _was _worth it. Now, with a throat scratchy from orally reading an uncountable number of pamphlets about Ohio (which had to be the most boring place in the whole world), I wasn't so sure. "…fall within that court's territorial area, and only if the claim does not exceed $15,000…" Damn, numbers. I could barely take words, much less numbers. I reverted back to whining. "Nik, can't we stop and eat?" We were in the middle of the woods, but we did have a bag of sandwiches, some bottled water, and one luke-warm grape Slurpee in the back seat.

I was sure he'd say no, but for once he seemed to take pity on me, and slowed his car, pulling it to a halt at the side of the road. He could've stopped it in the middle, for all the traffic that was passing through here. Did anyone even live in Ohio? Who wrote all the pamphlets?

I sighed with relief and dropped the pamphlet to the floor by my feet, where all the others lay in a messy ocean of information no one but the Ohio governor and maybe his wife cared about. "Thanks, Nik. You're the best." I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached into the back for the food. I took out two sandwiches and handed one to him as he turned the key and stilled the motor. It was quiet, suddenly, and nice. I liked the quiet, especially after such a long time spent listening to my own voice – which I'd been beginning to hate, by the way.

After half my grape Slurpee and most of my sandwich was gone, and Niko was about 1/18th of the way through his grass one, I asked, "Are we staying in Ohio or just passing through?" And added, petulantly, "Because I'm sick of it already."

"Passing through, I think," Niko said, taking a contemplative small bite and chewing. "I was thinking of Pennsylvania."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "City?"

The Grendels had found us too quickly back in that small town in Wisconsin, just when we were getting settled. I didn't want it to happen again, and I knew Niko didn't either. He nodded. "Yes. Philadelphia, maybe?"

As much as I groaned about Niko's iron-willed, school-related commands, what I really hated was hearing the uneasy indecision in his voice. It made him seem unsure and vulnerable, and reminded me that all the countless decisions he made for us weren't easy ones. He always had to think, so hard, and with our lives so often on the line. Sometimes I wished he would take a break.

But he never would.

So I tried to relieve the indecision, as much as I could. "Good. Sounds perfect. We'll aim for Philly."

Niko turned to me, but I purposefully missed his expression by staring out my window and chomping rhythmically on my sandwich. I was glad to be getting to the city. I'd been growing more tired than ever of all these woods. Seeing the same tree next to the same bush everywhere you looked could get awfully monotonous. Especially when…

I squinted. Was that… a _monkey?_

"Niko…?" I asked, reaching to roll down my window before I realized he'd turned the car off. "What the hell is that?"

It was crouched in one of the trees, long limbs entangled in the branches, covered in a shaggy black coat of fur. It sure looked like a monkey, except its body was somewhat off, and its paws were way too big.

"Interesting," Niko said, leaning over to look through my window. "It's a shug monkey."

"A _what?"_

A received a prompt smack upside the head. "You mean to say, you don't remember? We studied this particular supernatural being not three days ago." He pulled my hair lightly. _"Remember?"_

I didn't, not in the least. I tended to doze off in my brain whenever Niko started going with the supernatural junk. I mean, come on, why did I need to know how to bury a wine bottle with a Strigoi? It was all just damn boring, and whenever I could I took a brief vacation to la-la-land – anything to escape Niko's teacher voice. Right now, however, he wasn't using his teacher voice, he was using another, even scarier one, so I said amiably, "Sure, Nik, I remember. You bring it all back to me."

"Good," he said, and then before I knew it he'd opened my car door and nudged me out with his knee. "Then you'll know exactly how to catch it."

"Catch it?" I looked down at the last bite of sandwich in my hand and threw it into the scraggly grass, suddenly not nearly as hungry. "Hell, Nik, why would I want to catch it? Unless you want a damn monkey as a pet – just what we need. Besides, why make it mad? It's not bothering us."

Not two seconds after the words left my mouth, the shug monkey or whatever it was called ripped one of the tree branches off at lightning speed, hefted it in two huge black paws, and launched it at me. I threw myself to the side and it missed me by mere inches. "Damn," I muttered, glaring up into the monkey's moon-white eyes. It blinked once and then scuttled down the tree, disappearing into the underbrush, fast as all hell.

"Better get moving, Cal, or I won't even be able to grade you A for effort," said Niko from the passenger's seat of the car, watching me through the open door.

I turned and scowled at him. "You're _grading _me?"

"Some students need hands-on experiences," he said solemnly, his voice not betraying a hint of sarcasm.

I was about to remark at that when an acorn hit me square in the back of the head. Niko actually cracked a laugh, which almost made this whole ordeal worth it – _almost. _"Don't you love me anymore?" I muttered, reaching up to rub the back of my head.

"To death, little brother."

Another acorn. I cursed, turned round and started moving, more than ready to kick monkey ass, and tossed over my shoulder, "You know? I believe that."

Niko snorted. "A shug monkey is about as dangerous to you as is the grandmother of the last revenant you killed. You can more than handle it."

I could see the white eyes and the patch of black fur from inside the underbrush, only half-visible. The clueless of the world might pass it off as a wild dog or lost cat or a damn overgrown squirrel… not me. I knew what it was, and I also knew I could have it pinned to the ground or to a tree or underneath me in seconds… damn, if I couldn't win a fight with a monkey half my size, Niko may as well have been training a retarded brick all this time. I just wished the thing actually wanted to fight.

"I know I can handle it," I retorted grimly. "If it would just come close enough."

I made for the bush, but it was already gone, backed up against the tree it had previously occupied. And now, closer up, I could see it wasn't as fast as I'd thought. Fast, yeah – hell, yeah – but I was also fast. I'd corner it and catch it in less than –

Holy shit.

It vanished. Like some crazy magic trick… one minute it was crouched there and the next I could see tree bark through it. "Nik, it disappeared!" And from the scamper of heavy paws it was also making an escape.

"So it did."

He'd gotten out of the car at least, the bastard, and was standing a few yards off watching me, completely unperturbed.

"Look, Nik, if there's anything I _don't _want to do, it's run around after an invisible monkey."

"It's not invisible," Niko sighed. "If you paid more attention to me during studies, you would know that. In fact, if you paid more attention to me, you wouldn't be in this situation now."

I put my head down and toed a rock over. "So… what?"

"Legend has it that shug monkeys disappear like ghosts or apparitions, when in fact they are much more like chameleons. They merely blend into their surroundings as a survival mechanism," Niko said, folding his arms across his chest. "Legend also has it that shug monkeys are massive, but legend, as usual, exaggerates."

He looked like he was going to tell me more, and I cut him off. "That's great, Nik. But whether it's a ghost or a chameleon, I still can't see the damn thing. How am I supposed to catch it?"

"We went over this," said Niko calmly.

"We did?" I felt more mystified than repentant. I knew I daydreamed a hell of a lot, but… how to catch an invisible monkey? Really?

I heard more rustling bushes as the shug monkey, I don't know, mocked me. Niko tipped his head toward the sound and said, "Your grade is slipping."

Damn him. Shrugging off my pride, I darted for the undergrowth. I nearly caught the thing, I could feel the flash of fur in my hands, but I couldn't see it and in a moment it was gone, scampering away. So I chased it. For a good five minutes I was never more than a step behind it – except when it was in a tree and trying to kill me with tree boughs as thick as my waist – but it always eluded me. And then finally, like a ton of bricks in the head, I realized why it was so important that the thing was more chameleon than ghost.

I turned straight around and marched back to the car. Niko, who no doubt knew exactly what I was doing, didn't lift a finger to stop me or ask where I was going. Leaning in the passenger's side of the car, I grabbed the half-full cup of grape Slurpee and tore off the cover. The shug monkey was waiting for me when I returned… I could hear the bushes rustling as it waited impatiently for the game to start up again. Except I was done playing.

It almost darted away when it saw me coming, but before it could, I hurled the thick purple contents of my Slurpee onto it, and suddenly there it was.

I had it pinned and squirming against the ground in about two seconds. I could feel the moisture of the grape stuff seeping through my jeans, but the victory was so sweet I didn't care. Niko had ghosted up from behind and was standing over me with a small smile of appreciation… and amusement. "Good job, Cal. You get an A," he said, then gestured toward the whining creature. "You can let it go now."

I released my hold on it and stood all in one swift motion, to avoid whatever claws those big paws had, and watched a splotch of purple scuttle back into the deep of the woods. Then I turned to Niko. "Just an A? No A+?"

"You're lucky you get the A. It took you way too long to catch on." He smiled faintly. "Not that it wasn't amusing to watch."

I smiled back. "Bastard." I wandered back over to where I dropped the cup and stooped to retrieve it. "When we talked about this before, as you insist we did," I asked, "Did you happen to use a grape Slurpee in your example?"

Niko didn't even blink at the ridiculous question, but leapt onto it as another opportunity to teach me something no doubt vastly important. "No," he said evenly. "Mud would have worked well enough; granted, the shug monkey would have still blended a bit with the forest, but at least there would be something to see. Tar would also be an option, but as none would be readily available in the forest, one would have to bring it along. Some have been known to use tar to catch…"

I interrupted his lecture by walking back up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Teacher," I said, and waggled the cup in his face. "I still have a little left."

He raised an eyebrow. "Right. And how much more would you like to know about Ohio?"

I sighed, defeated, and tossed the cup over my shoulder.

We made our way back to the car, and in minutes we were out of there, driving off toward Pennsylvania – which I hoped to God did not have shug monkeys.


End file.
